


Bangin'

by 3am_instigator



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Humor, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, M/M, Serious Misuse of Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3am_instigator/pseuds/3am_instigator
Summary: “Hunk! Hunk, oh my god, I just realized--”“What?! What is it?!”“Think about it--we can have sex all the time now!”“Shit, you scared me, I thought something was wrong--”“Seriously, whenever we want!”“Dude, we never have free time--”“SEX. WHENEVER WE WANT.”





	Bangin'

Lance was restless.

He paced through the hallways, the kitchen, the lounge. He wandered up some stairs, beneath the weird upside-down pool, down an unused hallway, past identical doors that hadn’t been opened in millenia.

He felt itchy in his skin. He’d usually be interested in exploring these unused parts of the castle, but today he couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention. He was exhausted, but he had to keep moving. It was that, or he’d start _thinking,_ and he couldn’t deal with that right now.

They’d all almost died earlier that day. A formal reception had turned into an ambush, which was common enough in their lives that it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But the reception was hosted by some of their most trusted allies, and the attackers had managed to bypass all of their security. The food had been drugged with something rare that had slipped past their tests. Some kind of EMP-like device had shut down everything that ran on energy--including their bayards and Shiro’s arm. The attackers had spilled out of every doorway and alcove, armed with conventional swords and spears that they wielded with disturbing skill, the guards who should have stopped them either killed silently or in on the plan. Nobody had seen it coming.

It’d been a brutal, bloody melee, and none of them had gotten out unhurt.

He’d been wandering the castle for the past hour, looking for someone to talk to, something to do to take his mind off of things. He’d checked on Pidge first--she was in a cryopod, healing a nasty concussion and a luckily-less-bad-than-it-looked stab wound to the side. She’d be fine in a day or two, or at least that’s what Coran had said when he shooed Lance off. Lance didn’t like to admit it to himself, but he’d been a little relieved to be sent away. He’d wanted to stay near Pidge to remind himself that she was still breathing, but she looked so _still_ in the pod. Seeing her like that, it was almost harder to believe she was alive.

Keith was _training,_ the absolute lunatic. He’d gotten through the battle in better shape than any of them--his Galra blood left him unaffected by the drugs, and once he stole a sword off an enemy he was totally in his element. But maybe everyone else’s close calls had freaked him out--he was the one who’d knocked Pidge’s attacker aside, and he’d barely made it in time to prevent a _fatal_ stabbing. Or maybe he just literally had no other interests. Lance poked his head into the training room, saw Keith grunting and sweating, and turned right the fuck around.

Allura was on the bridge, trying to salvage the political situation somehow. She had a black eye and a bulky bandage taped to the cheek beneath it, and was in a dangerous mood. Lance had offered to help and she’d pretty much chased him out of the room. Okay, maybe he’d interrupted her in the middle of talking to one of her contacts, and _maybe_ some innuendo had slipped into what he was saying, purely unintentionally--but there was no reason to be so angry about it!

Shiro was... _resting_. The combination of a gritty, hand-to-hand battle and the drugs in his system had triggered one of the worst flashbacks they’d ever seen him go through. He’d fought like he was possessed, barely able to tell friends from enemies, and when the last opponent went down he’d had a full-blown panic attack right in the middle of everything. Lance and Keith had spent the next few hours talking him down, distracting him, trying whatever they could think of to help--until Shiro recovered enough to be embarrassed by their hovering and excused himself to his room. Lance couldn’t really blame him--he knew how much it sucked to feel weak in front of the team. He’d check up on Shiro later, but for now, might as well give the guy his privacy.

And Hunk, well...he was supposed to be resting, too. He’d been hit pretty bad--a long, ugly flesh wound that curved from below his right armpit, along his side, and almost to his belly button. The cut wasn’t too deep and didn’t come close to damaging any important organs, so Coran had deemed it not serious enough for the pod. He just sprayed it with some awful-smelling goop that was apparently the Altean equivalent of stitches, bandaged it up, and sent Hunk to bed.

It couldn’t hurt to check up on him, right? They’d said to let him rest, but if he was feeling anything like Lance he’d welcome the company. And if Hunk was actually asleep, he’d just leave, no harm done.

Once the idea was in his head, his antsy feet brought him back to the paladin sleeping quarters, right up to Hunk’s door, on autopilot. The door opened automatically under his touch like always--Hunk wasn’t the kind of guy who ever kept his door locked.

And, well, Lance had been coming in here more often lately. It was handy to be able to slip in quickly and quietly.

_Slip in...heh..._

Hunk was lying in his bed, propped up on pillows, shirtless, with clean white bandages stuck all over his right side and loops of gauze wrapped around his torso to secure them in place. He was looking at something on a pad, but put it aside when he noticed Lance.

“Hey,” Hunk said. “What’s going on?”

He sounded tired...and his voice was thick and cracked at the edges. Lance stepped closer and leaned in, peering at his friend’s face.

“Were you crying?”

“No,” Hunk replied fast, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he said, hands out, placating. “Today sucked ass, I get it. Is your side hurting?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Kinda...numb. I think that stitches goop had some anesthetic in it.”

“Makes sense.” Lance grinned. “I’m gonna treasure the look on Coran’s face when you told him that humans sew their wounds closed, by the way.”

“I’m just surprised it never came up before,” Hunk said, scootching himself into a more comfortable position. “I guess with the lions and armor and everything, we’re either pretty much fine or get hauled off to the pod half dead.” Hunk was frowning, eyes scrunched up and brows furrowed with worry. His hand absently went to fiddle with the edge of his bandage.

Lance knew that look. Hunk had probably been lying there alone for hours, unable to sleep, thinking and overthinking every choice he’d made in the past day and probably the whole rest of his life up to that point. Lance mentally kicked himself for leaving him alone so long.

“How’s Shiro?” Hunk asked, breaking through Lance’s thoughts.

“He’s fine. Or he’s okay enough that he can fake being fine and go hide out in his room.”

“Pidge?”

“Coran says she’ll be totally healed in a day or two. The stab wound’s already mostly closed, but the concussion takes longer ‘cause, you know, don’t want her brain healing wrong.” He started counting on his fingers. “And if we’re going down the list--Keith’s already back on the training deck, Allura’s really pissed that this happened at all so you might want to stay out of the crossfire, and Coran’s his regular self, just annoyed that everyone managed to get themselves injured.”

“And you?”

“Me? ‘Course I’m fine!” He grinned wide and struck a pose to prove his point.

Hunk gave him a _look._

“You hit the ground really hard. I _was there,_ so don't pretend you didn't. Did Coran check you over?”

“Yes, _mom!_ I've got some bruises, but nothing's broken. No big deal.”

“Just, for a minute back there, I thought…” Hunk trailed off, looking down.

He looked like he was gonna start crying again.

Aw shit.

_He’d been doing something stupid--showing off, kneejerk flirting with some alien who giggled at the attention and didn’t seem to notice when his words started to slur. When the first guard rushed up, Lance didn’t even register it as a threat, just stood there, groggy, slow, and strangely confused, and waited for the guy with the sword to end up being a joke or some weird alien cultural thing._

_And then he was falling, pushed hard to one side. There was a splash of red, and he hit the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of him--and a moment later Hunk landed heavily on top of him, dripping blood through the gash in his formal suit. Hunk managed to push himself to his hands and knees over him, blood oozing down his side to pool on the floor, panic and resolve fighting on his face. Lance barely registered that Hunk was calling his name--he was struggling to breathe and couldn’t reply, couldn’t do anything but lie there, gasping for air._

_Before he managed it, Hunk hit his limit--his eyes rolled back in his head, his arms and legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore, and he collapsed to one side. The groggy feeling that had been creeping up on Lance through the meal was so much more intense now, but he couldn’t give in to it, he didn’t think he could fight but he could at least keep his best friend from bleeding out on the floor. He rolled Hunk on his back, stripped off his suit jacket and pressed it hard against the wound while the fight raged around them…_

“I’m sorry,” Lance blurted. “You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I wasn’t so oblivious--”

“Dude, stop it. You don’t really think I blame you for that, do you? You were....we were drugged, and attacked when we thought it was safe. It...it wasn’t your fault.”

Lance sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “You know it’s not your fault either, right?”

Hunk sighed. “I don’t care whose _fault_ it is. I just want it to not happen again.”

Lance looked down at his hands, twisted in his lap. “People are gonna attack us. It’s part of what we signed up for.”

“I _know,_ I get that. I chose this. It’s just...when are we gonna push our luck too far? I keep thinking about ways we could’ve prevented this--more training, better scanners, stuff to check before going down to a planet...but the problem is just that they were _smarter_ than us this time. There’s only seven of us against a whole empire, we’re always outnumbered, so if they’re smarter, too--”

“C’mon, man, you gotta stop dwelling on this stuff. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“How the hell am I supposed to stop _thinking?_ I _can’t.”_ He looked away again. “You didn’t answer, and I thought...”

“Hey, I’m right here, and I’m _fine.”_ He smiled, tried to look encouraging. “And everybody else is okay, too. We’ll take it easy for a couple days and it’ll all be back to normal.”

Hunk didn’t reply.

He just reached up and pulled Lance down into a slightly crushing hug.

Lance’s head was pressed against his bare chest, and he could tell Hunk was breathing too fast, heart pounding too loud. The arms wrapped around him were shaking a little.

For a minute, Lance couldn’t help but freak out, too. He remembered Pidge screaming from somewhere across the room, but he couldn’t tell where she was--and he couldn’t go find her, he couldn’t even stand up and he had to stop the bleeding…

Hunk hissed and shifted under him, and Lance realized that he’d leaned on his bandaged stomach. “Shit. Sorry,” he said. He pulled his hand back from where he’d been returning the hug.

“It’s fine.”

 _“Yeah_ you are.” Lance made himself smirk, hoping to lighten the mood. He wasn’t ready to move yet. He shifted his weight off Hunk’s torso and pulled his legs onto the bed to lie down next to him, leaving his head pillowed on Hunk’s chest.

Hunk snorted. “That doesn’t even work,” he said. “If you’re gonna make that joke like five times a day, you’ve gotta at least wait for the right setup.” Lance glanced up at Hunk’s face and was relieved to see the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ve had nothing but restraint all day. All these formal events mean letting _so many_ openings go by. I’m gonna explode from holding in all my awesome lines.”

“All those important alien politicians are just wasting away, not knowing that their asses are out of this world.”

“Damn right.”

Hunk let out a low chuckle from deep in his belly and brought up a hand to absently run his fingers through Lance’s hair. Lance leaned into the touch--he could feel the tension in his stomach start to unravel. On impulse, he turned toward Hunk’s chest and started kissing it gently, tracing the line of an old scar.

This part of their relationship--the physical, romantic part--was still only a week or so old, but to Lance, it seemed less like changing what they meant to each other and more like everything slotting into place. Even back in the repressed, military, aggressively hetero Garrison, they’d been physical with each other--backslaps and arms around shoulders in public, hugs to ward off homesickness in private. Once they ended up in space, with the stress ratcheted up to eleven and anyone who’d judge them billions of light years away, the need for excuses had fallen away bit by bit.

The day after their first night of (awkward, fumbling, but still pretty amazing) making out and handjobs, Lance had run to find Hunk alone in Yellow’s hangar.

_“Hunk! Hunk, oh my god, I just realized--”_

_“What?! What is it?!”_

_“Think about it--we can have sex all the time now!”_

_“Shit, you scared me, I thought something was wrong--”_

_“Seriously, whenever we want!”_

_“Dude, we_ **_never_ ** _have free time--”_

_“SEX. WHENEVER WE WANT.”_

And Hunk had buried his face in his hands--which he’d been doing a lot lately, the guy got embarrassed way too easily--but when he looked up again he’d been laughing, so it was probably okay.

Scratch that--Lance _knew_ it was okay, because a few mornings later Hunk had surprised Lance in the shower to give him a _very memorable_ blowjob against the space linoleum, and then spent all of breakfast looking a little mortified but mostly just pleased with himself despite not being able to look Lance in the eye.

(Okay, Lance shooting kissy faces and eyebrow waggles his way the whole time probably hadn’t helped. But how could he resist? He’s only so strong).

Lance lifted his head a few inches off Hunk’s chest to look at him.

“Hey. Hey, Hunk. I bet I know what’d take your mind off things.”

“Hmm, very subtle,” Hunk replied with a raised eyebrow. “What are you going to suggest, it’s a mystery.”

“I was thinking, maybe we could make out for a while--”

“You’re gonna say something horrible now, aren’t you?”

“And then you could let me ride you like a fucking stallion.”

The hand petting his head withdrew.

“Dude.” Hunk let his head fall back on the pillows. “Seriously?”

“Aw, c’mon, I’ve finally got someone to talk dirty to for real, and you don’t even like it--”

“‘Cause it’s _weird.”_ He frowned. “And, I dunno...it makes it feel like we’re doing something wrong.”

Lance stopped. He crawled up to look at Hunk face-to-face, eye to eye.

“You know that’s not true, though...right?” Lance cringed. “I mean, unless you want to stop and you didn’t tell me ‘cause you thought I’d be mad--”

“No! No, nothing like that…” He sighed deep. “I dunno, using lines like that...it’s like we’re not just _ourselves_ while we’re doing this, it’s like we’re trying to fit into some weird role of what’s supposed to be hot. Like, I want to be with _you,_ not some...idea of a partner who says the right lines so sex happens. Does that make sense?”

“Awww,” Lance cooed dramatically, warmth spreading in his belly, squeezing Hunk in a hug of his own. “That’s so freaking _cute!_ I never knew you were such a romantic at heart!”

“What? Where’re you getting that? I just meant--” He cut himself off, blushing hard. “I dunno, maybe you’re right and I’m overthinking everything.”

“Um, _duh.”_

“Can we just...skip to the making out part?”

Lance didn’t answer, he just laughed as he pressed his lips to Hunk’s.

He deepened the kiss almost immediately--Lance was getting impatient, and honestly it never took much to get him going. He shifted over, draped himself over Hunk’s uninjured side, a little more careful of the bandages this time but craving more contact with the enveloping softness of Hunk’s body. One big, calloused hand reached for his hip, pulled him closer, pushed up under his t-shirt to rub lazy circles on his lower back.

 _Like, I want to be with_ **_you..._ **

Nobody ever said stuff like that to him. He always had to fight for attention, for recognition--nobody just _chose_ him.

 _God,_ it was a turn-on.

He was grinding against Hunk’s side before he even realized, clinging to him like a koala, kisses going wild and messy, trailing down Hunk’s jawline, marking him with a hickey under his ear. His body jerked up again, pushed hard into Hunk’s hipbone, too many layers of fabric between them but desperate for _some_ kind of stimulation.

Hunk laughed at that, the total bastard. As revenge, Lance _slowly_ dragged his thigh over Hunk’s groin, felt him harden under his leg. The laugh turned into a high-pitched whine--Hunk pressed a hand against his mouth, seeming surprised he could even make a sound like that.

“O-okay!” Hunk gasped, voice still high and tight. “Okay...wh-what do you actually wanna do?”

“Thought I already said,” Lance muttered to the soft skin under Hunk’s ear.

“D-dude, you were being serious? I...I thought you were just messing with me--”

“What, you think I _don’t_ want to get fucked by my super-hot boyfriend?”

“Now I _know_ you’re messing with me, c’mon--”

Okay, that was enough of that. Lance reached down, snaked a hand into Hunk’s pajama pants, and unceremoniously grabbed his dick.

Hunk let out an actual yelp, then got quiet, breathing heavy. Lance started running his thumb around the head in little circles.

“Hey. Do we have to have the ‘yes, you’re hot, and yes, I am attracted to you’ conversation again, or do you want me to use my mouth for something more interesting?”

“Uh...oh _god...ngh..._ option two, please?”

“Good.”

Lance pulled away from Hunk’s side--Hunk reached after him vaguely, apparently craving touch as much as Lance was. But Lance was a man on a mission now. He crawled down the bed, then gingerly pushed the stretchy waistbands of Hunk’s pants and underwear down past his dick, already hard and practically radiating heat.

Hunk tried to sit up, propping himself up on his forearms, but when he pushed past that point he fell back on the pillows with a hiss of pain.

Lance put a hand on Hunk’s belly to keep him from trying again. “Hey, careful. You got a little stabbed today. Take it easy.” He started pulling Hunk’s pants off the rest of the way, eventually hooking a toe around the waistbands and kicking them onto the floor. He sat on Hunk’s bare thighs, ran a hand up his side.

“But...but I should--”

“Nah, come on.” He looked up at Hunk through half-lidded eyes, shot the man his most smoldering look. “Let me take care of you. You saved my life today, after all.”

He could see Hunk’s eyebrows knitting together, and Lance cringed internally--he was probably gonna say something about how their “relationship wasn’t transactional” or whatever, the dude had _no concept_ of sexy talk at all.

So he dove in head first-- _literally_ \--and put his mouth around Hunk’s dick.

Lance could feel every muscle in Hunk’s body tensing up the moment his tongue touched skin. A stab of _what the hell do I_ ** _do_** _with this thing_ panic shot through him--but he knew that when he was unsure the best thing to do was just fake it, he’d seen enough porn to know the gist and he’d figure the rest out quick. He ran his tongue over the tip, then took it farther into his mouth, letting his lips press in on all sides, and figured the whimper from Hunk meant he was doing something right.

Hunk’s dick was fucking _big,_ like the rest of him--Lance felt a twinge of jealousy, but that quickly got doused by thoughts of all the stuff they could _do_ with it. His imagination had kicked into overdrive in the past week now that old fantasies were actually, incredibly possible. And as he listened to Hunk moaning half-formed sentences all breathless and incoherent, unable to reach him from where he was lying except for the tips of his fingers brushing through Lance’s hair again and again, Lance breathed in the sharp, earthy smell of his body, felt the soft skin and bumps and ridges on his tongue and imagined it thrusting hard and deep inside him while Hunk pressed heavy against his back or held him up effortlessly against a wall...Lance unzipped his own pants one-handed, started stroking himself like he had a million times before, but that gave him a rhythm to follow and he started bobbing his head in time.

The hand on his own dick was distracting him, making everything that much more intense, making him crave _more--_ he wanted to go further, pull more of those _awesome_ , uncontrolled sounds out of his clearly-super-repressed friend, so with the next bob he went even deeper, pursed his lips into a tighter seal around him.

It worked--Hunk twitched up into the back of his throat with a raspy gasp of _“Lance!”_ \--but pushing so far back set off his gag reflex, and Lance choked around the thick, heavy length in his mouth. He pulled back, gagging a little, nicked Hunk with his teeth as he drew away. He coughed and wiped some spit off his chin.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Hunk murmured between heaving breaths.

Hunk was pushing himself up on his forearms again, trying to sit up, shifting his legs under Lance like he wanted to curl away from him. His face was still flushed, but his expression was so distraught it twisted something in Lance’s stomach.

“Dude! C’mon, it’s fine,” Lance grinned down at him, putting a splayed hand on his stomach again to keep him from ripping open his wound like he seemed _so bent on doing._ “I guess, uh...my technique could use a little work,” Lance raised an eyebrow, let his face creep into a suggestive smirk, “but that just means we’ll have to do _lots_ of practice.”

“Oh...okay,” Hunk said, still pretty dazed. His eyes were wide as he looked Lance over, but seeing him smiling and joking seemed to calm him down. He shook his head, leaned back again, rubbed at his temples with one hand. “I guess that little freakout ruined the mood,” Hunk sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I just...I can’t get my brain to calm down today.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Lance patted him on the hip. “We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to, y’know. We can just watch something on the pad and hang out, and I’ll stay over like it’s one of our old sleepovers. I just need fifteen--uh, ten minutes in the bathroom first--”

“W-wait.” Lance slid off the bed, but Hunk reached out and caught his wrist loosely before he could leave. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“And you’re not pissed at me, for...y’know…”

“No way! It’s really not a big deal. I would’ve gotten right back in there if you hadn’t been upset.”

“Okay. Okay, can we...try again?”

Hunk was staring at him, looking a little concerned, a little hesitant, but also _wanting._ Lance smiled, tried to casually lick his lips. He saw Hunk swallow.

“And , uh...I think it’d help if I can see what you’re doing.”

Lance’s smile got wider. “So, you want me to put on a show for you, huh?”

“What? Oh, uh, yes.” Hunk’s face got the serious look it always did when he was thinking something through. “Please do a sexy show for me, you...um...hot piece of man...man-meat? Is “man-meat” sexy?” He blushed hard. “I dunno, uh...Lance, you gotta say something...shit, I’m really bad at this, did I kill the mood again? I think I killed the mood again--”

That was all Lance could take before he doubled over, cackling.

Hunk hesitated for a second, but then he grinned wide. “Is that chorizo in your pants? Uh, gimme that big side of beef...you...you slim jim...or, uh...pork chop.” He raised an eyebrow at Lance. “I can keep the meat references going for a while, just saying.”

“Pfft--I think maybe you should leave the dirty talk to the professionals. But hey, I appreciate the effort.” He leaned in, gave Hunk a peck on the lips. “Ha, _pork chop._ That’s your new pet name, by the way.”

“Oh god.” Hunk shot him some deadly puppy-dog eyes. “C’mon, _please_ don’t call me that in front of everybody.”

“Too late! It’s happening.” Lance pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it on the floor.

“Pidge still hasn’t dropped my last pet name, she calls me ‘Hunky-boo’ every time I--”

Hunk trailed off, staring at Lance’s bare chest, his face falling.

“That looks...bad,” Hunk said. Lance looked down, and saw that his chest was covered in dark purplish splotches.

“Huh,” he said, looking down. “It didn’t look that gross before. Guess bruises take a while to show up sometimes.” He poked at the edge of one dark blotch--it stung a little when he pressed down. And now that he was thinking about it, his chest _did_ feel kind of stiff and achy in a way he could tell was gonna be worse tomorrow.

“Does it hurt?” Hunk asked, his voice getting thick again.

“Nah, not too bad.” Hunk frowned at him, so Lance looked him in the eye, tried to radiate honesty. “Really, it looks worse than it is.”

Hunk shut his eyes, nodded. “Sorry, I know I’m, like, fussing over you too much.”

“It’s sweet.” He leaned in for a few more little kisses. “Like you.”

“Aw, I guess _you’re_ the real cheesy romantic.” Hunk smiled faintly and kissed him back.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Lance grinned. “So, ready to fuck my mouth with your huge monster cock?”

Hunk rolled his eyes. He reached behind him, and swung a pillow to smack Lance right in the face.

Lance sputtered. “What the hell?! What happened to all the ‘oh no, Lance, I’m so concerned about your wellbeing?!’”

“Eh, you said you’re fine.”

 _“Yeah_ I am.”

“Shit.” Hunk shook his head. “I walked into that one.”

 _“Yeah_ you did.” Lance smirked, and started kicking his pants off.

He was _done_ with stuff getting in the way--clothes, worries, whatever. He faced away from Hunk, then started shimmying his underwear off, doing a little hip-wiggle dance move as he tossed them on the clothes pile.

He felt a light _smack_ on the ass, and turned back to Hunk, eyebrows raised in surprise. Hunk looked surprised at himself too, but then he chuckled, blushing.

“You can’t just shake your butt in my face and not expect a reaction.”

“Oh yeah, you like this?” He broke out into a couple full-on Shakira dance moves.

“Oh god, why do I encourage you…? You know you’re ridiculous, right?”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Hunk replied with a little smile. Lance turned to look over his shoulder, batting his eyelashes and making ridiculous kissy faces, making Hunk roll his eyes. “Sometimes.”

Lance plonked his butt down on the bed, pressed up against Hunk’s side, still keeping his body turned away. He didn’t like to admit it, but...he was still kind of shy about letting Hunk see his junk. Like, group showers and changing in front of each other had been a thing for _years,_ but that was different from actually getting up close and personal with somebody’s dick. It was a feeling he was still getting used to. And...he didn’t measure up. Literally.

One thick, muscular arm wrapped around his waist. “Hey,” Hunk murmured, running a big hand carefully over Lance’s ribs--he was probably still thinking about the bruises. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, and leaned over to catch Hunk’s lips in his.

It was easy to slip right back into making out. The feeling of so much skin-to-skin contact was new and kind of amazing--Hunk’s hands running up and down his back were calloused and a little rough, but the rest of him was just so fucking _soft,_ miles of smooth brown skin smattered with dark, peach-fuzz hair and not a sharp angle anywhere _._ Lance shifted around until he was lying flush to Hunk’s body again, and pressing into Hunk’s hip with his _extremely naked_ groin was a brand new experience in itself...he ran his toes up Hunk’s leg, and when Hunk’s lips parted he pressed forward with his tongue and his crotch all in one motion, making _himself_ gasp.

Okay, okay, he had a job he was supposed to be doing, and dry-humping his way to a half-assed orgasm wasn’t it. With great difficulty, he forced himself to pull away again, letting his hand trail down Hunk’s uninjured side.

Hunk was watching him with half-lidded eyes. He wasn’t particularly body-shy, but he also wasn’t usually laid out stark naked in front of Lance like this. Lance just paused, taking in the sight--the dark flush of Hunk’s cheeks, the powerful arms, the curves of his chest and belly, the cute dimples in his elbows and knees. He was tangled up in a complicated muddle of emotions, a little possessive, a little awed, a lot horny--here was his best friend in the world, this brilliant, sweet, awesome guy who’d _saved his life_ like twelve hours ago just...trusting him, trusting _only him_ enough to lie there totally exposed.

Their eyes met, and Hunk didn’t move to turn away or hide himself, just stared back with his bottom lip caught in his teeth.

 _You’re beautiful,_ Lance didn’t say, because that wasn’t something he felt like a guy could say to his best-bud-slash-maybe-boyfriend, and also because he knew Hunk wouldn’t believe him, would think he was lying or joking because some assholes back on Earth had convinced him it couldn’t be true.

But maybe that was something they could work up to.

And for now, he could show how he felt with his actions. With some _action._ Heh.

Lance grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I promise the actual sex parts go better in part 2.


End file.
